"Where is that Mother?"
My response to this question that was asked, or perhaps accused, of me. A response I can never send or say, but needed to answer.
Where is the woman who pleaded with God for years to give her a child? Her name is Hannah - in ancient times and today.
Where is the woman who suffered and sacrificed so much to give that child life? She still bears the brutal physical, emotional, and mental scars of that sacrifice, and bears them as tangible proof of her love.
Where is the woman holding her babe who "looked like she lassoed the moon?" She is still holding her child with that same incomprehensible love.
What has changed? Nothing, really. She is a mother; she is tired; and she is fighting many hard battles. But she is the very same mother.
She knows it. God knows it. Her daughter knows it.
Why do you not see her as that woman anymore? I cannot read your mind and heart any more than you can read mine. All I know is you found offense where none was intended. My sincerest apologies for whatever I did to make you feel that way. You found fault in another's weakness. My deepest regrets that I caused you to question my motherhood.
Does that make you any less the person who wept with this mother as she pled, suffered, and bled? No. Does it make you any less the person who felt joy in this mother's triumph? No.
It makes you human. As I am human - imperfect, prone to make mistakes, destined to learn many things the hard way, to fight our personal battles in their myriad forms.
We are put here to learn and grow, to develop compassion, empathy, and forgiveness, to strengthen the weak, lift hands that hang in sorrow and exhaustion, and above all else, to love.
May we strive to love a little better. I am trying.
Leave your thoughts and comments please!